


Excerpts from B Baggins' Diary

by InkFire_Scribe



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Diary/Journal, Dwarf Culture & Customs, Eventual Romance, F/M, Female Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Hobbits are so polite, Hobbits hate camping, Prim And Proper, Rule 63, Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-05-02 03:34:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 2,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14535750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkFire_Scribe/pseuds/InkFire_Scribe
Summary: The Hobbit manages to keep a diary during the Quest, and the results are a little hilarious.





	1. Bag End

**Author's Note:**

> I went digging through my archives today and found these. I just about died laughing. Then I needed to share it with you. So here's the skinny - you'll get a new excerpt every couple days until I run out of my buffer. I won't write more on this until I finish _To Ask a Blessing._  
>  Thank you for reading! If you have any suggestions, requests, or prompts, feel free to contact me through my website; www.inkfire.net!

 

Tuesday, 25th April, 1341 SR

This morning I had the most frightful encounter with a strange old man while I was enjoy my tea and pipe after 1st B. He asked a great many questions about my mother, and adventures, and claimed to be Gandalf, that Wizard the Old Took hired on Midsummer Eve to make fireworks. I'm not sure I believe that last bit - that was near 40 years ago, and Men don't live so long, do they?

After being frightfully rude, the old Man told me he would take me on an Adventure (as if I wanted to go!) and though I turned him down politely, I invited him to tea tomorrow. I can't imagine Mother would have accepting anything less of me, but I do wish I could have done without. Senility doesn't make for the best conversation. 

NOTE: Put down on Engagements Tablet.


	2. The Golden Perch

Thursday, 27th April, 1341 SR

 

There are a great many things to write about today, especially since I missed my diary yesterday and nearly forgot it this morning, but I'm wretchedly tired, and can't manage a full account at the moment, so you'll have to make do with this: 

Yesterday tea time rolled around and of course I'd forgotten to put down Gandalf on ET, and I was just setting the table when the doorbell rang. It wasn't the old Man, but a whole pack of Dwarves! They came tramping in without so much as a by your leave and nearly cleared out the two main pantries. Then the Wizard came and this time I believed that he was what he said because this was more than enough of an Adventure, thank you very much. 

My guests stayed for supper and talked very late into the night. I didn't understand most of it, but they seemed to think that, though Gandalf said I was good enough, I was near useless. That made me right angry so I went and put my foot in it, of course, volunteering to do whatever it was they needed and go hang them if they thought I couldn't do it. 

This morning, they left an appalling mess and I was cleaning it all up (no help at all from them) when the old Man came back again. He scolded me for not dusting, then barely gave me any time at all to pack my things for this dratted trip before shooing me out the door. I assume he locked up after me - I gave him the key, anyway, and if he didn't I'll be holding him accountable for anything that's gone missing when I return, though Yavanna only knows when that's going to happen. 

Tonight we've stopped for sleep at the Golden Perch in Woody End. Best beer in the East Farthing, I'm told, and I think I rather agree. It's got a darker flavor here than at the Green Dragon. I'll need to ask their recipe. 

Anyway, I'll write again when I have the chance. This is all madness, and if I get back home within any reasonable amount of time, I'll be grateful. 

 

NOTE: Purchase carrots for pony. Animal is partial.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the delay. I've been commissioned to write _Game of Thrones_ stuff, so I got absorbed into the rabbit hole that is GoT lore.


	3. The White Hart

Saturday, 29th April, 1341 SR

 

They say this will be the last night we have in a decent inn. I'm not sure I would qualify this place as a "decent inn" anyway. There are more Breelanders here than proper Shire folk, and I can only understand half of the talk I hear. 

My legs are abominably sore after so many days riding. Mother always told me that it would take "getting used to," but I never thought I would be in a position to do so. Here I am, and I suppose she would be pleased with me for having taken the risk. I hope it's worth it. 

Now that I've had some time to ask questions of my own and process everything, I understand we're to travel quite across the world to this Lonely Mountain of theirs (the Dwarves', I mean) and somehow win back their home and their treasure from a dragon. Though I asked how they plan to do that, none of them seem to know, and I think this is all a load of rot. No plan, no hope, and I volunteered myself like a fool. Still, let no one say a Baggins isn't as good as her word, and Father would roll over in his grave if ever he thought I had made a promise I wasn't going to see through to the end. 

 

Dwarves: 

Thorin - Leader, very pompous

Balin - Oldest (white beard), polite

Dwalin - Biggest (bald), grumpy

Fili/Kili - Youngest (blond), far too energetic

Oin - Healer (ear trumpet), has grandchildren

Gloin - Moneykeeper (red hair/beard), talks about his son

Dori - Neatest (many braids), reliable and pleasant

Nori - Crazy, thief

Ori - Scribe (knitting), good for talk

Bifur - Salt and Pepper, doesn't talk much

Bofur - Hat, jolly and doesn't mean to be insulting

Bombur - Cook, made fun of for being fat (friend?)

 

That's all for tonight. With luck, we'll have clear weather tomorrow for camping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Having lots of fun with this thing. :)  
> If you have any requests, suggestions, or comments, I'd love to hear from you! Come look me up on my website: www.inkfire.net!


	4. Wet Little Dell

Sunday, 30th April, 1341 SR

 

It's raining. Nothing happened. 

I hate camping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can I just say - I love this chapter? It makes me laugh every time. Every. Time.


	5. Roadside Ditch

Monday, 1st May, 1341 SR

 

Still raining.

Still hate camping.

 

Lost a lot of our baggage when a pony bolted into the river today. Mostly food, of course. Because camping is that way, apparently. Gloin says I ought to be grateful it was the food and not our clothes, but I don't think I agree with him.

Part of me hopes they just give up and turn back. I'm sure the dust hasn't gotten too bad at BE. Might even get home before the eggs spoil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It may or may not surprise you how much effort I've put into making sure these dates line up with the comments made in the book. Starting on the 25th of April and trying to plot out how many days it took between here and there, comments about when harvest will take place, and when Gandalf says they were captured on Monday night or Tuesday morning... it's a little ridiculous, but it's kind of fun making sure the details are right.


	6. Troll Cave, Morning

Thursday, 4th May, 1341 SR

Yesterday deserved an entry, but I didn't have a chance to write until today. (Finally stopped raining, by the way.) 

 

After I put my things away for the night, Thorin had the brilliant idea of sending me to scout out a fire in the distance. He told me to hoot like an owl if I had any trouble, and I'm not altogether sure they would have come to help me even if I had been able to figure out how to make owl noises while hanging upside-down by my toes. 

In case I somehow forget why I was hanging upside-down by my toes, I'll just make a note here that the fire I was sent to investigate was lit and being used by three large Trolls. They had absolutely atrocious manners, and such an appalling appetite that I was afraid they might decide to eat me raw. Honestly. If you're going to eat people, at least have the decency to cook them first. 

Anyway, the Dwarves wanted to find the Trolls' cave, so we did, and we took what was useful out of it - mostly food and some low-quality ale, but there were also some swords and things. The ones Thorin and Gandalf got were very nice, and I got a little one for myself, too. Of course, Gloin and Bofur started making fun of it almost at once, calling it a pocket knife and a letter opener, and telling me that if I ever managed to use it at all, they would die of shock. 

I very nearly proved I could use it on one of their hides, but it would be rude to stab one's traveling companions, so I let it be. That's the whole reason I'm here anyway, right? To prove that I'm not useless? Silly reason to go on an Adventure, I must say, but it's my own fault, and I won't make a liar out of myself just because I regret opening my mouth. 

 

NOTE: Trolls smell like wet dogs, even when they're not wet.


	7. Foothills

Friday, 5th May, 1341 SR

 

Nothing has happened today. We rode for ages, and Gandalf says there's a valley here somewhere and his friends live there. Elves, I think, and that sounds nice enough. Elves used to pass through the Shire now and again. I wonder if they're more talkative at home. 


	8. More Foothills

Saturday, 6th May, 1341 SR

 

Started raining again today.

Not much left to eat, even with the Troll stuff we picked up. If we don't find this valley of Gandalf's within the next couple days, it's going to be a very long, hungry trek back to the White Hart. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Discovered that I put some things in the wrong order on my first go through on this fic, so when I was adjusting the dates, I had to go back and make sure the pony fell in the river BEFORE they met the Trolls. I personally think the pony should have fallen in the river AFTER the Trolls, but I suppose the effect is the same, either way. :) Less food. Wet pony. 
> 
> If you have any suggestions, requests, or comments, feel free to let me know. Feedback is LIFE.


	9. More Bloody Foothills

Monday, 8th May, 1341 SR

 

Still no sign of the valley. Rain finally stopped, though.

I had a decent conversation with Bombur last night, about the recipes he learned from his sister when he was young. He even gave me the recipe for his cornmeal dumplings - who would have thought of cornmeal in dumplings? They apparently take much less time to cook. I copied the recipe here, so I won't lose it. 

2/3 c flour

1/3 c cornmeal

1 1/2 tsp baking powder

1/4 tsp salt

1 Tbs butter

1/2 c buttermilk

Mix thoroughly.  
Add 1 Tbs scoops to soup of choice (boiling).  
Simmer with lid on for 20 minutes.  
DO NOT OPEN LID UNTIL DONE.  
Test with toothpick.  
Enjoy.

Grandam Took's chicken soup will be perfect with these, I think. I'll try it when I get back to BE. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The above recipe is a real recipe that I've used myself multiple times, and these dumplings are amazing. I pack them (with soup, obviously) for my lunches in cold weather. Enjoy. :)


	10. Rivendell

Tuesday, 9th May, 1341 SR

 

I never knew before today that Elves liked to sing such silly songs. I think they might do it just to bother the Dwarves. If so, they were exceptionally successful. It was quite difficult to keep quiet. Laughing, I think, might have ruined what little reputation I've managed to build with the Company. 

But really, you ought to have seen Thorin on his hands and knees, crossing the bridge with his pony just behind him, the beast looking so bored he might have just been taking a stroll in a meadow instead of on a spit of rock over the river, with no handrail to either side. It was unnerving, let me tell you, but so long as my faithful little Caramel kept going, I could hang on to her tail and trust her not to fall. She keep me on track, and I was sure to give her the last of the carrots when we were over. 

Now the Elves - they really are something else. Young and old and somber and glad all at once. And this place! If you like eating, it's perfect. If you like stories or singing, it's flawless. If you like walking in gardens, it's ideal. If you like working with your hands, there's noplace better. And if you like just sitting and thinking… I think you get the point. This place, the Last Homely House in the West, is the perfect place, no matter what you like best, and if I could I would spend the rest of my days here. 

It's been a long day, though. We didn't reach the valley until it was quite dark, and now I can hardly see the paper, I'm so tired. I will write more on the morrow, and perhaps I'll finally address why the Dwarves keep calling me "Master Baggins," because this is a story worth telling.


	11. Rivendell

Thursday, 11th May, 1341 SR

 

We're to have at least a sevenday's rest before we start into the mountains, and I've never been so glad to hear it. Frankly, I'm impressed I've been able to write so often as I have, and with luck this will make for very interesting memoirs when I'm older. Still, I'm a bit young to be thinking of such things, even if I am liable to die on this quest (as Dwalin so helpfully reminded me just this morning). 

Now, as I mentioned the other night, the Dwarves all address me as "Master Baggins." This is incorrect, but I thought nothing of it until we reached Rivendell and I heard Fili say "Mistress Elf" when trying to get the attention of one of our hosts. As it happened, that particular Elf was male, and this led to a very amusing conversation about the difference between a robe and dress. I wish I'd thought to write it down at the time. Perhaps Ori was nearby and remembers it. 

In any case, this gave me to know that Dwarves do not, in fact, address everyone by the title "Master" regardless of gender. Further, when I asked Kili about it (him being the older of the two and less likely to turn everything into a joke) I learned that they believe me to be male, and address me accordingly. 

 

Why? 

Possibly because I was wearing trousers when they surprised me at home without any kind of warning. 

Or because I didn't pack multiple layers of skirts to ride a pony across the world. 

Or because I haven't corrected them? 

 

Anyway, apparently they think I'm a man, and that's not going to change for a while. I've made this decision because I've seen how they treat the female Elves, and I don't particularly want to be on the receiving end of rampant and insulting flirtation. 

I smell food on the wind, and Rivendell meals are feasts compared to what I've had since leaving Bag End. I'll write later. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience. Fiddling with the story that will go up next - an answer to the question "What if the Ring were a time-traveling device?" Don't know who asked it, but I do know I answered it. 
> 
> Also discovered (again) that I calculated the year COMPLETELY wrong for these entries. I was only off by about 200 years. *facepalm* I fixed it, but geez do I feel silly. 
> 
> If you have any questions or requests, feel free to let me know, either in the comments or by reaching out to me on my website: www.inkfire.net!


	12. Rivendell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo's last night in the house of Elrond.

Tuesday, 23rd May, 1341 SR

I've been informed (sadly) that this is to be our last night in the Last Homely House. It's a shame I never wrote again after getting here, there's such a lot to record. All these wonderful songs, tales, recipes, people, and nevermind the marvelous sights about the Valley. If I were any sort of artist, I could spend the rest of my days here and never run out of things to draw. 

A few nights ago, when the moon was full and looking down on us like a single huge eye, Gandalf, Thorin, and Elrond met together to discuss the map from Thorin's father and the best route to take to get to the Mountain from here. I tagged along, but not because I wanted to be with that stuffy, pompous Dwarf king. I rather like maps (ever since Mother showed me her collection in Tuckborough) and I hoped to learn more about this one.

 

And I did.

 

There are invisible letters written on it! Apparently, there's a special ink used with silver pens that the Dwarves invented, that lets them write secret messages that can only be seen by the light of the moon when that light's strong enough. I wanted to ask more about the ink and the pens, to see how they worked, but Thorin looked like he would take my head off if I said word one, so I kept my questions to myself until I was alone with Elrond. He's agreed to make some notes for me and hold them until I return this way. 

Excellent folk, Elves. I learn to like them more and more. 

 

Anyway, I had better start packing before it gets too late. Tomorrow we'll leave early, and I don't doubt the weather will take a turn for the worse as soon as we leave this marvelous valley. 

Until next time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's really no excuse for the huge gap in chapters here. I can only say that I will try to do better and... oh, yeah. There's another thing coming up where Kili steals Tauriel from Legolas, so that should be fun. :) Expect more by next week!


End file.
